Bones Takes Care of Jim
by elfmaiden4legs
Summary: Marked as complete as this is a series of unconnected one shots, basically exploring all the times Bones was there for Jim when he needed him the most. Apologies for the very original title! But this story is exactly what it says on the tin!
1. The Evil Within

**The Evil Within**

Kirk didn't feel well. He hadn't felt well since he'd beamed back aboard the ship from Alpha 177, and he'd felt even worse since the procedure to try and re-join his evil half with his good one. He hadn't initially experienced any unpleasant side effects, he'd just been relieved to be feeling more like his normal self again, and had returned to work on the bridge without a second thought. McCoy had voiced the opinion that he should probably take the remainder of the day off to rest, but he had no real reason to certify the captain unfit for duty and so hadn't pushed the issue. He assumed that Kirk knew his own body well enough to know what he felt up to, and so had returned to sickbay.

That was until barely half an hour later when he'd received an urgent call from Spock, letting him know that Kirk had collapsed. He'd hurried back to the bridge as quickly as he could to find the captain sitting on the floor, slumped against his chair. Spock had been kneeling down beside him and seemed to be helping to hold him up. Kirk was evidently conscious, but his eyes were closed, and he was groaning intermittently.

"What happened?" McCoy had asked as he'd pushed his way forward and Spock had barked the order to the group of shocked and evidently worried crew to return to their posts. He'd helped the doctor to lift Kirk and sit him back down in his chair, keeping one hand resting firmly against his shoulder to steady him whilst McCoy ran his hand-held scanner over him. Kirk's complexion had turned a ghastly shade of pale.

"I don't know doctor." Spock had told him, honestly. He'd had his back to the captain when it had happened. "I just heard a thump and when I turned around the captain was already on the floor." He'd explained. "He did suddenly go quiet in the middle of giving navigation an order. Mr Sulu said that he turned around to see him sitting with his eyes closed, when he suddenly slumped forwards in his chair."

"Did he lose consciousness?" Bones had asked.

"I don't think so." Spock had shook his head.

Kirk had opened his eyes, only to close them again quickly when he'd realised that the world was still spinning. The dizziness had been debilitating. He'd felt nauseous, and if it hadn't been for Spock's hand on his shoulder, pinning him firmly to his chair, he knew that he would have fallen out of it again. If he'd thought the dizziness and disorientation had been bad when he'd first beamed back aboard the ship, it had been nothing compared to what he was experiencing now.

"I didn't faint." He'd protested weakly. "I'm just dizzy that's all."

"Jim, I think we should get you to sickbay." Bones had explained. "Some of your readings are slightly off, I'd like to run a few tests. Do you think you can walk?"

"I don't think so." Kirk had shook his head – immediately regretting the gesture as it only made the room spin faster. He'd kept his eyes tightly shut. It had been bad enough that his head had been swimming as though he'd been caught in the grip of a riptide – he hadn't wanted to have to see the world moving around him as well.

"If you can't walk then I'm going to have to call a medical team Jim." McCoy had told him quietly, out of ear shot of the rest of the crew, and the captain had nodded.

"I think you might have to Bones." He'd agreed. There had been no way that he was going to be able to make it all the way from the bridge to sickbay. He'd have had to crawl, and that would have been even more humiliating than having a medical team remove him there. He'd become vaguely aware of the doctor leaning over him as he'd spoken into the comm – ordering a medical team to the bridge. Kirk had been disorientated and only vaguely aware when Nurse Chapel and a couple of junior physicians had arrived with a bio-bed to take him down to sickbay. Movement of any sort had made his head spin violently, but he'd found that once lying down, if he'd kept his eyes tightly shut, it was just about bearable. He'd heard McCoy barking out orders and had then heard the hiss and felt the sting as a hypospray had been administered. He hadn't asked the doctor what it was for, but it had helped the dizziness a little, and had made him feel slightly sleepy. He'd later find out that he'd fallen asleep before they'd even reached sickbay – which had apparently been McCoy's intention.

When Kirk had next awoke he'd been lying in a bed in the sickbay. The screen had been switched on above his bed and had been monitoring his vital signs, but the lights in the room had been dimmed. His head had hurt him slightly and he'd still felt a little dizzy but he could now open his eyes and look around him without feeling as though he was going to pass out. McCoy had walked in just as he'd started to try and prop himself up, and had quickly hurried over, taking him gently by the shoulders and lowering him back down onto the bed.

"Woah, Jim." He'd said in a hushed tone – he'd seemed to be making an intentional effort to keep his voice quiet. "You need to lie still. Don't try to get up. I've given you something for the dizziness, but you're still very weak."

"What happened Bones?" Kirk had asked him.

"There were some physical repercussions from the re-joining of your two personalities." He'd explained. "It's affected your inner ear and there were some neurological complications involving your neocortex."

"What's that?" Kirk had frowned – he really hadn't liked the sound of that. The mention of potential neurological effects had alarmed him a little.

"It's the part of the brain involved in sensory perception." McCoy had smiled, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "But it's nothing to worry about Jim. I've had you under close observation here for the past few hours now and there's absolutely no indication that any of the damage is permanent. In-fact I can accompany you down own quarters soon." He'd said. "I've given you something for nausea and the dizziness. Aside from that all you need is rest, and plenty of it."

"Bones…" Kirk had started to protest, but the doctor had been quick to silence him.

"That's none negotiable Jim." He'd said. "I think you know already that there is little point in arguing. Can you honestly tell me that you feel up to command at the moment?" He'd asked him, his eyebrows raised as he'd eyed him critically, and he'd folded his arms against his chest, indicating that there was absolutely no point in him protesting his decision.

Kirk had considered his response to this for a moment. He'd considered lying, but he'd known that it would have been impossible to fool the doctor. McCoy would never have believed him, and so with a great deal of reluctance he'd shaken his head – regretting the action immediately.

McCoy had nodded.

"I'll prepare another sedative, and arrange for a medical team to take you back to your quarters then." He'd told him. "I'll accompany you. I want to carry on monitoring you for the next couple of hours."

Jim had looked up at him, his complexion had been pale and his cheeks and forehead dotted with beads of sweat, but a slightly crooked, impish smile slowly crept across his face - reaching from one ear to the other.

"What?" The CMO had asked him. "What are you smiling at Jim?"

Kirk had shrugged - he hadn't been smiling at anything in particular. He couldn't find any joy in being stuck in sickbay, or the prospect of spending the next couple of days confined to his quarters. He hated being ill, rest didn't come easily to him, and without work he'd known he was feited to endure kind numingly, tedious boredom.

This time he'dalready suspected that things might be a little different however. He'd been tired, as much as he'd hated to admit it, even to himself. He'd felt drained, as though someone had syphoned away the seed of his usual energy, leaving him empty and weak.

"You're always there Bones..." He'd said. He'd sounded as exhausted as he'd looked and McCoy had immediately looked to the screen above his bed to check his heart rate and blood pressure. The doctor has relaxed again once he'd assured himself that all his patient's vital signs were still stable.

"Rest now Jim." He'd told him, patting him gently on the arm. He'd watched the man relax back into the bio bed, unable to resist his body's instinctive desire to sleep, before leaving to prepare him a sedative.

When Jim had next awoke he'd been lying in his own bed. The lights were dim in his quarters, but as he'd looked around he'd observed that he wasn't on his own. A chair had been pulled up to the end of his bed, and Bones had been sleeping - his head leaning to one side, tilted at an odd angle. He'd looked terribly uncomfortable, and strongly suspected that the man would probably awake with a cramp in his neck, but Jim hadn't been able to help but smile.

He'd known that he'd be hard pressed to find anyone better at doing the same job - any man more caring and more loyal. Jim had realised what a lucky man he was. Comradeship was a given amongst the members of any Starship crew - but true friendship was still rare, and hard to find.

He'd realised a long time ago that Bones was so much more than just a doctor - he had become a friend, and it was as his friend, not as his physician that he'd made the decision to stay with him tonight.


	2. The Man Trap

**The Man Trap**

McCoy stood in the doorway to his cabin starring down at the repulsive creature at his feet. He didn't know what to think. The mass of tangled hair, with its suction cup limbs, bore no resemblance to the beautiful woman it had presented itself as only a few minutes ago. The captain was slumped over in the chair opposite, breathing heavily, and as the doctor looked up he noticed the angry red welts beginning to form on his face, and a few on his hands where he had initially tried to prise its cold, revolting tentacles off himself, before being rendered helpless.

They looked painful and even in the midst of his own grief McCoy was already observing him with a doctor's eye. There wasn't a lot he could do for the sores on his face, but those on his hands would need dressing to stop them getting infected.

Kirk seemed to be in shock. His complexion was pale and he had started to shiver slightly. Spock, seeing the captain's distress, immediately pulled himself to his feet. He appeared uninjured by the beating he too had sustained, and he began to make his way over to the man. He took the blanket from McCoy's bed and draped it around Kirk's shoulders.

"Are you alright captain?" The Vulcan asked him.

"I feel… so weak…" Kirk's teeth chattered together as he spoke, and the doctor too began to make his way over to the two men – kicking the creature angrily out of the way as he stepped over it.

"Let me take a look at you Jim." He said, placing his palm to his friend's forehead to check his temperature before taking his tricorder scanner from his pocket. He was a little on the warm side, suggestive of a possible low grade fever, but nothing to worry him at the moment. The scans on the other hand showed that internally he was in a bad way. If the creature had maintained its grip for just a few seconds more the captain would likely be dead right now. McCoy had nearly left it too late, he'd fired just in time – and that only added to his feelings of guilt.

"How is he?" Spock asked him.

"Well, his heartrate is slowing, he's weak and there's a decrease in cognitive functioning." He explained. "My diagnosis is a fairly easy one to make under the circumstances – severe hyponatremia."

"What's that?" Kirk asked him weakly – looking up at his friend through tired and sunken eyes. His gaze was glassy and distant.

"Well, as I said, it should be fairly obvious given the circumstances Jim." McCoy sighed. "You're suffering from a severe salt deficiency."

"Will he be alright doctor?" The Vulcan pressed him.

"He'll have to spend some time in sickbay." The doctor told him. "He needs IV fluids and electrolytes, and he'll need close monitoring for the next day or so. You saw what happened to the other poor devils. Hyponatremia can be life threatening, but I think we stopped the creature in time. We need to move fast though, if we delay treatment for much longer he's liable to lose consciousness."

He turned again to look at the creature at their feet. "I can't believe I could have been so easily taken in by such a thing." He said. "Nancy was so beautiful, inside and out. She'd have done anything for anyone, given the clothes off her back to someone who needed them more. It's an insult to her memory that he chose to assume her identity."

"I'm sorry Bones." Kirk apologised as he observed the tears in his friend's eyes. One escaped and made it half way down McCoy's cheek before he swiped it away angrily. The doctor felt the captain place a shaky hand on his shoulder.

"No, I'm sorry Jim." He told him. "I shouldn't have hesitated to use the phaser. I should have fired as soon as Spock told me to. It was my fault that thing was able to get that close to you."

"You have nothing to apologise for Bones." Kirk told him. "I've suspected for a while now that the creature assumed the form of a figure it sensed would be most pleasing to each of us. That would explain why each of our descriptions of Nancy were different when we first beamed down onto the planet."

"Even so Jim, I allowed my emotions to cloud my judgement." McCoy gritted his teeth together in an angry grimace, his hands balling into fists at his side. "I loved Nancy once. I may not have seen her in many years, but seeing her again now, unchanged and unblemished, just as she was when we were both young, brought all those feelings flooding back. It was an infatuation. I was in awe of her beauty and the fact that she'd seemingly remained untouched by the hands of time. But it wasn't real. As a doctor I should have realised that it couldn't have been real!"

"Most of us have loved, and lost Bones." Kirk told him – his voice sounding uncharacteristically weak and lacking its usual conviction. "We all know how that feels. It isn't a crime to love another."

"Jim –" McCoy started, but this quickly turned into an exclamation as the man suddenly collapsed forward and doubled over in pain. "Jim!"

"I'm alright Bones." He tried to bat the doctor's searching hands away as they reached for him, but he was as physically weak as his voice had suggested and the motion couldn't have swatted away a fly. Spock quickly caught the captain by the shoulders before he could pitch forwards off his seat.

"M'ok…" He mumbled into the hand he was now using to rest his head on as he pinched the bridge of his nose. His whole body felt as though it was made of lead, and his tongue and lips tingled with a strange numbness. He knew that he was slurring his words. "M' just a little dizzy that's all. My head hurts." He said.

He became vaguely aware of McCoy hovering over him – he was scanning him again, the small tricorder hovering over him like an aggravating insect. His head was spinning and there was a high-pitched ringing in his ears which wasn't coming from the doctor's scanner. He felt strange. His heart was racing, but he didn't know why. It wasn't due to physical exertion, and he wasn't in any danger – at least none that he knew of – but he couldn't escape the feeling that something was wrong.

He glanced up at McCoy and noticed, with a slight sinking of heart, the concerned look on his face. There was a frown deepening the creases in his forehead – and he could still feel Spock's stabilising hand upon his shoulder.

"Jim we need to move you to sickbay now." The doctor was telling him, but his voice sounded distorted – as though it were being picked up on a weak radio signal. He was struggling to wade through the fog which seemed to have settled over him, muddying his brain. He felt very tired all of a sudden, and very confused – unsure anymore of where he even was. Logically he realised that he must still be in McCoy's quarters – he couldn't remember going anywhere else – but he had the strange notion that he was really on the bridge. His crew were waiting for him to give them their orders. He tried to open his mouth to speak, but no words came out – only a few garbled, nonsensical sounds.

What was happening to him? Was he hallucinating? He wondered.

"Jim, do you think you can walk?" McCoy asked him.

His legs felt like jelly, and he wasn't entirely sure that they could support his weight long enough for him to even stand, let alone make it all the way to sickbay, but his pride would not allow him to admit so much – not even to his two closest friends. He knew that McCoy would have a portable bio-bed and a medical team down here to transport him as soon as he said no. He nodded.

He felt strong hands grasp him as Spock took him by one side and McCoy the other – although the Vulcan's grip was significantly more vice-like than the doctor's – as both men attempted to lift him. His vision began to blur and darken around the edges. There was an explosive pressure inside his head – the pain was bad and his skull felt as though it was in danger of cracking like an egg. The high-pitched buzzing intensified until he could hear nothing else besides the unpleasant droning inside his own head. He tried to tell McCoy to stop – that he wasn't going to make it – but again no words came out.

He stiffened, the top of his right leg going into an agonizing spasm. It made him cry out. He was still vaguely aware of McCoy and Spock holding him, but he could feel himself pitching forwards – the ground coming up to meet him as he fell. His legs had given way beneath him, just as he'd feared they would.

His two friends weren't prepared for what happened, and hadn't steeled themselves to take his full weight.

He felt himself make impact with the ground. The last thing he registered was the excruciating pain which erupted throughout his entire body, before everything went black – and he welcomed the darkness when it came.

"Jim." McCoy gasped, bending down to turn him over as his whole body suddenly went stiff and began to convulse. Spock did the same, kneeling down beside his friend.

"What's the matter with him?" He asked.

"He's having a seizure." McCoy explained, already preparing a hypospray and quickly emptying the contents into a vein which bulged in Kirk's neck as he continued to seize. "Get the pillow from my bed and put it under his head." He told him, and watched as the Vulcan did as he instructed. He put two fingers to his throat to check his pulse, but when the seizure still hadn't abated after a couple of minutes he administered another dose. He waited patiently for the drugs to take effect, consumed with concern that the seizure wasn't showing any sign of stopping, but after another minute had passed the convulsions finally started to ease, his breathing started to improve, and Kirk's body went lax.

McCoy breathed a sigh of relief.

"What was that you gave him doctor?" Spock asked him.

"An anti-convulsant and muscle relaxant." The doctor responded – his voice sounded tense and strained. The Vulcan noticed that his eyes appeared haunted. "I've also given him a mild sedative." He explained. "It's a potentially deadly combination if the dosage isn't calculated correctly, but it was necessary I'm afraid. The muscles in Jim's neck were so tight they were obstructing his airway – suffocating him."

"Will he be alright now?" Spock frowned. The Vulcan was evidently concerned, despite his usual tendency to deny his ability to feel such emotions.

"It seems to have worked for now." McCoy nodded. "He's no longer in any immediate danger, but we need to get him to sickbay. He'll be vulnerable to further seizures now, and I can't carry out a proper assessment of the damage done here."

Spock gently scooped the captain up in his arms. Jim was of quite a muscular build, and Spock wasn't of large frame himself – taller and thinner than he was broad. The ease with which he lifted him was testament to his Vulcan strength.

"Sickbay then doctor?" He asked him – Kirk's body limp in his arms. A tiny trickle of blood dribbled out from the corner of his mouth where he'd bitten the inside of his cheek during the seizure, and McCoy gently wiped it away with a tissue – carefully looking inside his mouth to check the damage done. It was a superficial flesh wound, deep but not serious – but it would need keeping an eye on to make sure that it didn't get infected.

He nodded. Spock was already part way out the door when he turned back to observe the doctor, looking down at the creature with eyes full of sadness and painful regret. McCoy's heart ached. He thought about everything that might have been if it really had been Nancy. It felt as though he were losing her all over again.

"Doctor?" The Vulcan frowned – pressing him.

"I'm coming Spock." He said, turning to follow. He ran the tricorder over Jim one last time, checking for any signs of respiratory distress, before stopping to secure his quarters as he followed him out. The first officer would dispatch a security team to remove the body once they'd settled Jim in sickbay. He would be happy if he never set eyes on it again, but he felt sure Jim would want an autopsy performed on it when he regained consciousness.

Kirk's breathing was even and regular, the anticonvulsants were keeping the seizures at bay for now. He could feel Spock's eyes one him, watching him closely as they walked. He in turn watched Spock, as he carried Jim with surprising ease, and gentleness. He observed his gait and the way he held himself as he walked for any signs that he'd been hurt in his own brush with the creature, but to his relief he appeared uninjured.

"I know what you're thinking, but this is not your fault doctor." The Vulcan eventually ventured to speak. They'd just exited the lift shaft together, and were nearing the sickbay now – he realised that it would be his last chance for a while to disclose what was on his mind. McCoy looked at him and frowned.

"Oh, and how do you make that out Spock?" He asked him, he couldn't keep the anger he felt at himself from leaking out into his tone.

The Vulcan's response was a simple one, but predictable to anyone who knew him. "Because you're letting your emotions get in the way of logic." He told him. "You couldn't have known what that thing was, and what it was capable of. There was nothing you could have done to save those men. You know that."

McCoy didn't respond. There was perhaps a very small part, buried deep down inside of him, that realised Spock was right, but that didn't make him feel any better about the situation, or the guilt he felt any easier to bear. He knew that he couldn't expect the Vulcan to understand though, and so he decided that it was best not to engage with him on the subject while the wound was still so raw. His emotions were not what mattered right now. He watched as Jim's body suddenly stiffened in Spock's arms as he began to convulse again, and McCoy immediately grabbed him off him as they reached sickbay, and laid him down on the nearest biobed. The Vulcan was immediately pushed aside as both Nurse Chapel and Doctor M'Benga rushed forward to assist him with the captain, who's arms and legs were flailing – his body gripped by the violent seizure. McCoy's heart began to race, and the adrenaline flooded his veins, the bloated corpse of creature in his quarters temporarily forgotten.

There would come a time when, later that evening, he would find himself seated at his friend's bedside in sickbay, and inevitably Jim would be the one to make him see that Spock really was right – but he had to stabilise his condition first.


End file.
